


a long, long time

by abaisse



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, M/M, Old Men In Love, One Shot, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), and they r all about steve, bucky has many feelings, i just needed to feel smth again and i always feel when bucky feels so HERE WE ARE, idk man this is just all fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:01:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26681062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abaisse/pseuds/abaisse
Summary: Sam had told Bucky about what Steve had said, before, in DC: even when he had nothing, he had Bucky. At the time, Bucky didn’t really know what that could've meant. But looking at Steve now, he thinks he understands.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 82





	a long, long time

**Author's Note:**

> ive been on this damn site for like 10 yrs and this is the first time im posting anything skjdns insane in the membrane, man
> 
> i wrote a huge chunk of this while disassociating during a meeting HAHAHA SO NOW WE ALL KNOW WHERE MY SUBCONCIOUS IS AT but thats for another time
> 
> anyway. a few things:
> 
> this fic is basically an AU where we still won endgame but nobody died and nobody used the last pym particles to fuck shit up in another timeline idk and is also set a couple years after endgame 
> 
> peggy calling bucky a realist is reference to an ol' classic, [4 Minute Window](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3130037) by [Speranza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speranza/pseuds/Speranza)
> 
> the title is from... well. as the kids say these days, [iykyk](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Chs2bmqzyUs)
> 
> thank you to my brudder [mio](https://twitter.com/miostark) for the beta, [ren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia826/pseuds/fw_feathers) for the "kind of beta" (lol as we called it), and [ina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/careful/profile) for helping me with the ideas for this one and for all the handholding when i got emotional
> 
> also just wanna give a lil shout out to chadwick boseman. t'challa is in this for a little bit and writing him out made me more emotional than anything else tbqh. rip to a true legend. if you can, please consider donating to your local cancer research and/or support centers!
> 
> if u wanna follow me im on twitter!! ive got a [stan twitter](https://twitter.com/wintertsundere) (mostly mcu and by that i mean mostly sebstan ahahahjkshd), but i dont mind a lil follow on my [personal](https://twitter.com/laissezferre) as well if u want!! lets be friends!!!

Bucky sometimes finds himself feeling very old and very young at the same time. Rediscovering a world you were barely conscious living in does that to you, he supposes. After the war— almost all the wars by now, they’ve spent almost a hundred years fighting— Bucky finds there isn’t much left for him to do.

He and Steve live together now— again— and do freelance spec ops missions when they can, but between SHIELD backpay and their respective pensions, they’ve got basically all the time and money in the world (well, money that isn’t Tony’s anyway). Sam and Nat live a couple of blocks down respectively and they host dinner parties sometimes, and they’re very fun.

Bucky thinks that if they had a normal life, and were born in a different decade, this is what it would’ve been like.

Peggy Carter called him a realist once; between him and Steve, that’s probably true, and it’s probably why he keeps trying to think of the next thing to do. With no intergalactic wars to fight and a new life to live, what  _ can _ you do?

\--

More often than not, their days are mundane. Steve is grateful for it, because it means he can catch up to all the painting and reading he wants. Bucky is grateful for whatever Steve is grateful for, so he doesn’t complain.

(This is, of course, a lie: he does complain, but only when he starts to get randy. “Paint me like one of your French girls,” Bucky teases one night, and it makes Steve laugh so hard he knocks some of his brushes over.

“Yeah, like I had any French girls,” Steve scoffs, but he lets Bucky climb into his lap anyway.)

Today is a mundane day: they are having a late lunch, because of all the painting Steve didn’t want to tear himself away from. They’re on the back porch of their brownstone, having sandwiches from the deli two blocks away. It’s been exactly three months since their last mission, and Steve has since finished a huge landscape that he plans to donate to the local community center. The sandwiches are a treat from Bucky.

“Oh how you spoil me rotten, babe,” Steve had joked, and promptly stuffed three chunky deli french fries in his mouth while Bucky unpacked the rest of their meal.

Days like this is what makes Bucky feel young, like they haven’t really missed out on a lot. They’re together, alive, eating meatball subs on the porch with no impending doom of someone trying to kill them. It’s a good feeling.

He usually feels old, really feels a hundred, on nights when he can’t sleep. He hasn’t had a nightmare in a while, but he still sleeps poorly in fear of having one; he can admit as much now, as opposed to before, when he didn’t even want to process the mere concept of trauma. Steve has some too, but they’re not as bad, nor do they occur as often, and he doesn’t wake up screaming. Bucky doesn’t really consider that to mean that Steve is luckier between the two of them, and pulls him closer every night anyway, if only to wipe away Steve’s tears with his lips.

Across from him on the porch dining table, Steve is putting a shit ton of hot sauce onto his sandwich, a thing that still surprises Bucky every time he does it.

It’s been a while since the Snap, since they started their life back up again, and Bucky realizes there are a lot of things Steve does that still surprises him, besides the hot sauce thing. The other day Steve offered to help Sam build a Lego model of the Death Star. Bucky had no idea Steve had even  _ seen _ Star Wars, let alone remember the Death Star, and he said as much.

(“Sam forced me to watch ‘em all,” Steve had replied as he placed one gray Lego on top of the other. “Back when— well.”

He cleared his throat and didn't continue then, probably didn’t want to; he just continued stacking up Legos. Beside him, Sam was quiet, for once. Bucky knows what Steve meant anyway, that he was referring to when they were all on the run. If that time was before or after they found Bucky is a moot point, he decides.)

There are a lot of things that have remained the same about Steve too: for one, his distaste for morning runs, or morning activities in general, despite having been a genetically modified soldier all this time (Steve still does them, of course, because he's a good soldier through and through). Second, his affinity for household chores, especially cleaning the bathroom. Bucky knows the cleaning thing is mostly out of sentiment more than anything else, because before the war, the most activity Steve could do without accidentally triggering an asthma attack was the chores. And the punk loved it— really loved it. “It’s therapeutic,” He’d say to Bucky. He said it in 1939 and he’ll say it again in 2026.

And of course there was Steve’s (mostly) unnecessary need to fight. His righteous fury. His short temper.

They still bicker about almost everything, from which dish soap to get to whether or not they should accept a mission in the depths of Kazakhstan. If he wasn’t such a public figure, Bucky knows that Steve would still be trying to start fights on the streets too, with the New York City thugs, who also haven’t really characteristically changed since the 30s.

But it's Steve all the same, Bucky thinks. His Steve, his heart and soul and life and love and missing limb. Steve who went looking for him, found him, forgave him, saved him.

On bad days, Bucky tends to wonder what would’ve happened if Steve had decided not to go looking. The Snap would’ve taken Bucky anyway, and no one would have noticed, no one would have known. Afterwards, when Steve and the others eventually save the world, Bucky would return, still unknown, and still aimless; running around Eastern Europe trying to hide. And Steve… Steve and the others would never have had to run themselves: he wouldn’t have had to give up the shield, he and Tony would’ve never fallen out, Sam and Nat wouldn’t have had to spend a year covering their own tracks, Wakanda would’ve never had to get themselves involved in their mess.

But then Steve wouldn’t have gotten the chance to make things right again, either. To learn his own lessons, to realize that he’s worthy— of friendship, of love, of justice, of another chance at this life. Steve wouldn’t have realized who he was with and without Bucky.

Sam had told Bucky about what Steve had said, before, in DC: even when he had nothing, he had Bucky. At the time, Bucky didn’t really know what that could've meant. But looking at Steve now, he thinks he understands.

Steve continues scarfing down his lunch. In the golden sun, he is radiant, despite the sauce all over his face. It reminds Bucky of the first time they went to Coney Island beach together, when they were twelve. Steve burned too easily and had to stay under their shared parasol almost the whole time, but even then when the sun hit him, it was casting him an enchanting glow, not a burning light. Bucky couldn’t stop staring at Steve then. Ninety years have passed and he’s still staring now. He hasn’t even really started on his own lunch yet.

"We should get married,” Bucky blurts, surprising himself, the sandwich almost falling from his hands. The gravity of his feelings overwhelms him, his face burns up. That’s probably it, he realizes then. Isn’t it? This is it. This is the next thing to do.

Steve looks at him, eyebrows raised, and wipes tomato sauce from his mouth. Bucky watches him, can't help that either; can't help remembering the days when Steve couldn't stomach anything other than cabbage soup. Now Steve eats almost everything put in front of him, sandwiches smothered in hot sauce least surprisingly so, in retrospect. This new century has so much food to offer. Bucky's lived through the decades but also hasn't, so these past few years have been the first time he's had fusion cuisines and different pastries, and he's glad he and Steve get to do that together. (It does get too much though sometimes, the old man in Bucky thinks. Who the fuck needs a croissant and a donut in one pastry?)

"You wanna be my wifey, Buck?" Steve finally says, breaking Bucky's thoughts, and he has a cheeky grin plastered on his face that earns him a ball of paper napkins thrown at him.

"Forget it," Bucky says, but not unkindly. He doesn't feel hurt, not really. He can't help the smile crawling up his face. He looks back at his own sandwich awkwardly, feeling dumb, even though he knows he shouldn't. He watches some of the sauce from his sandwich drip down his metal fingers. The suggestion was in vain, he decides; they’ve been together for over nine decades, before it was even legal, before people even wanted to talk about it.

(He thinks about how glad he is that  _ they _ talked about it, that one November night in their old apartment, huddled up together in bed; how he almost went more than half his life without knowing, without ever knowing that Steve felt what he felt—)

Bucky is inclined to say as much when he feels Steve bump his foot under the table and he flicks his gaze to him again. Steve is looking right at him, eyes shining. "'Course we should get married," He says, casual, like Bucky had actually just asked if the sky was still blue. "Now can I go back to eatin' this sandwich?"

Bucky snorts and tosses another tissue ball at him.

\--

Weeks later, they go to City Hall. They had to fight Tony and Thor’s respective insistence on a lavish ceremony, because neither of them were in the headspace to take care of that many people and/or Asgardians for one night.

They go in the early morning on a Friday, making sure they’re the first ones in, and the first ones out before there’s even a second couple. Sam and Nat come as the principal witnesses. Steve and Bucky say their vows, promise another 90 years (“Of… whatever this is,” Steve had said, gesturing into the air vaguely) to each other; the judge says you may now kiss the serum-enhanced super soldier, so they kiss, and then they’re married.

Outside City Hall, while waiting for Sam and Nat to bring the car around, Bucky stares at the gold band running smoothly around his metal finger. He can feel— really feel— the weight of it on his hand, the coolness of the material. Feels everything, despite itself. God bless Wakanda.

“Remind me to thank Shuri later,” Bucky says. Steve looks at him and nods, takes his metal hand in his flesh one and Bucky grins, can’t stop smiling, when he hears their rings clink together.

Back at their brownstone, the rest of their friends are all waiting. Loki even came, surprising everyone, and they’re all even more surprised when Loki and Bucky hug it out in greeting. But Steve understands, Thor does too, and that’s all that matters.

They have a brunch reception (“Which, by the way, is the  _ gayest _ , most stereotypical choice of reception, and I am here for  _ all _ of it,” Tony had said) with lots of food and drinks. The Stark and Barton kids had dressed up their back lawn with streamers and balloons and picnic blankets. It’s casual, everyone in light summer outfits— dresses, jeans, flowy linen— despite the occasion, and Steve and Bucky wanted it to be that way. They themselves had changed from their summer suits into more breathable clothing for the party, blending in with their friends. It was just as much of a party for everyone as it was for them.

T’challa and Shuri arrive a bit late, having come from a peace conference in Geneva. They bring Bucky’s favorite lamb stew and flatbreads. “I had to stop him from bringing an actual lamb,” Shuri says. "Or worse, one of your beloved goats." Next to her, her brother feigns hurt at her revelation, and Steve has to laugh at the sight of one of the most powerful world leaders getting his feelings stomped by his baby sister.

“I wanted them to have a special wedding gift!” T’challa says defensively and Bucky can’t stop grinning. “She insisted she knew the Captain would not have liked the live goat. So instead, the stew.”

“And what a lovely stew it is,” Steve says, polite as ever, just like his ma taught him. Later, he’ll roll his eyes upon realizing Bucky and T’challa conspire to try and get the goat to Brooklyn anyway.

It’s Valkyrie and Bruce that begin to really get the party started, an hour in, passing around an array of shots, mimosas, lagers, and wines. “It’s 5pm somewhere in the galaxy,” Valkyrie says, and Steve laughs while taking a beer.

The party goes on throughout the day, into the night. They play multiple lawn games and board games, mixing American games with Wakandan and Asgardian. They run out of food and alcohol and Tony has some more sent over. They talk in the down times, bodies laid out across picnic blankets, or huddled around tables. They share stories of their more recent days, stories from their childhoods. They pour out some alcohol over the grass to honor those they’ve lost, and to honor what’s to come.

All in all it was an incredibly perfect day. Bucky can’t remember the last time he felt so happy. When he looks at Steve, laughing at one of Sam’s jokes, he’s not sure if he remembers the last time Steve looked this happy too.

Everyone slowly takes their leave when the moon starts to move lower behind the skyscrapers. Thor pats Steve and Bucky both on the back and waggles his eyebrows, booming his congratulations on their marriage and that he “hopes their consummation will be fruitful”. Steve blushes so hard it creeps down to his neck, but he manages to say his thank yous and goodbyes without a hitch anyway.

Afterwards, when everyone is gone, well. It’s not like they could ignore a perfectly good suggestion from a goodhearted friend.

\--

Much later, they are lying in bed, their bedroom illuminated by a dimmed bedside lamp.

“Did it feel different?” Steve asks, quiet. Bucky is draped across Steve’s chest and he had already started to feel himself doze off, too blissed out and relaxed and  _ happy _ to think about anything else.

“Mm, did what feel different? The sex?” Bucky eventually says back, looking up at Steve. “The… consummation?” He tries to emulate Thor’s eyebrow wiggle and Steve, to his credit, doesn’t roll his eyes.

“Yeah,” He says instead. Bucky can see he’s dead serious now. “‘Cause, you know.” He holds up his left hand and wiggles his fingers. The ring catches in the light and Bucky grins.

“You’re so fuckin’ cheesy, Rogers,” He says with a laugh and that earns him a hard shove off his man’s— his  _ husband’s _ — body, and suddenly Steve is trying to suffocate him with pillows.

“ _ I’m _ cheesy? You’re the one who wanted to get hitched, geez,” Steve retorts but Bucky can barely hear him over the sound of his own laughter. “I ask one fuckin’ question, an innocent one at that— yes, it was innocent, stop laughing! I can’t believe I agreed to the rest of this too long life with you, Buck, you’re a goddamn menace, always have been—”

\--

The next day they sleep in until almost noon, which is late even for Steve. They do their best to shuffle out of bed and decide to spend the day out around Brooklyn. They walk casually, not in any particular rush to go anywhere. They walk hand in hand. Bucky can always feel when Steve rubs his thumb across Bucky’s ring.

“So,” Steve says. “What’s next?”


End file.
